


Princes of the Universe

by sheron



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Highlander Fusion, Canon Divergence - Avengers (2012), Captain America: The First Avenger Compliant, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fandom Stocking 2017, First Time, Getting Together, Highlander AU, Iron Man 2 Compliant, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Phil Coulson is an Immortal, Quickening, Quickening Sex, Steve Rogers is an Immortal, Swords, Tony Stark is an Immortal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-01 12:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13294875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheron/pseuds/sheron
Summary: After seventy years in the ice, Steve wakes up Immortal. There are sword duels and Quickenings to worry about, not to mention the Chitauri invading New York. As if that's not enough, there is Tony Stark. (Highlander Fusion AU)





	Princes of the Universe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ilien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilien/gifts).



> This is a fusion with _Highlander: The Series_ universe. While I think the story can stand on its own, for basic information: Immortals live forever unless someone separates their head from their body. They live in secret among mortals, and occasionally choose to fight each other to the death in single combat, where the winner receives all the power and knowledge of the other immortal through their Quickening, which looks like a lightning storm striking the survivor. Immortals can sense each other, and they can sense a pre-Immortal, someone who will become Immortal upon experiencing their first death. ["Princes of the Universe"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZ1WyBGG_Vw) by Queen, is the theme music for _Highlander_. 
> 
> This was written for ilien, as part of Fandom Stockings 2017. I hope you enjoy the story!

 

_Just be there._

The last words Peggy said to him rattle around in Steve's brain.

The room is drab and impersonal when he opens his eyes. There's a radio playing, the Dodger's game that is eerily familiar. Steve faced death in _The Valkyrie_ , had thought he would die in the plane crash, but whatever his ideas of Heaven might have been, this certainly wasn't it. For one, he'd been to that game, he remembers that May afternoon two years ago with the Dodgers gaining an 8-4 lead.

Awareness slots together with what he knows about the world, and suddenly Steve sees other details out of place in the room, other tiny inconsistencies. The grey Manhattan skyline seems familiar for a brief moment, but even the air smells different, somehow cleaner than the New York of his memories. And there's a tired ache behind his eyes, a buzzing almost like an electric current. Steve hadn't had headaches since the serum had worked its magic on his body. He feels off. They'd done something to him. 

When the female agent tries to pacify him, Steve only grows more suspicious. If he'd been captured by Hydra, and this is an elaborate plan to make him comply, his first goal is to escape, sort it out later.

 _Later_ turns out to be in the middle of rush-hour New York where a man Steve learns goes by the name of Nick Fury tells him he had slept in the ice for seventy years.

Funny thing is, that's not even the strangest part of Steve's day.

Within an hour, Steve meets Agent Coulson who is reportedly in charge of introducing him to this brave new century. Steve's head is dizzy with a strange sensation, unlike any he'd felt before he woke up in this strange place. Phil Coulson is a short and stout man who studies Steve with a placid expression for a few moments, before his eyes brighten, his mouth quirks and he says with barely hidden delight: "You're one of us."  


 

* * *

 

Steve regrets asking, "Who is us?" 

He guessed Fury's SHIELD, or in the worst case some underground resistance movement. But what Coulson tries to convince him of sounds even more implausible.

Immortals. Moving silently through the centuries, living many secret lives.

The slight buzzing headache he'd been feeling? Another immortal's presence.

Oh yeah, Coulson's one of those, too.

The man must sense incredulity growing on Steve's face, because he smiles with a measure of kindness. "I gotta say, it's an honor to finally meet you, Captain." When Steve's eyebrows rise, Coulson continues, almost rambling in his haste to make Steve feel more at ease. "I sort of met you, I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping." Coulson flushes. Steve glances down, with a twinge of second-hand embarrassment. 

"That's when I knew you were one of us," Coulson continues seriously, making Steve glance up again. "I could feel your presence, distant while you were unconscious and growing slowly stronger." Whatever this insane story is, Coulson obviously believes it with complete devotion. "You're entering the game a little late, but I'm sure the serum will come in handy in that regard."

"What game?" Steve asks. He regrets that, also.  


 

* * *

 

The Game, capital G. He cannot die, unless someone takes his head, and with it his power. His Quickening.

The way Coulson talks about lopping off people's heads in an ancient combat to the death makes Steve leery of him and concerned for the man's sanity. Steve has experience killing, a hell of a lot, but not this kind of ritualistic beheading. Coulson shows Steve his own blade: a basket-hilted sword that looks well-cared for as he draws it out of the ornate leather sheath. It looks like the swords Steve had seen in pictures, the kind gentlemen used for duels in centuries past.

"How old _are_ you?" Steve says, eyeing the blade.

Coulson smiles thinly. "Why don't we have us a little training session?"

Turns out, Coulson was right, the serum does come in handy.  


 

* * *

 

Steve has had the ability to pick things up quickly for most of his life, but with the serum that skill was enhanced to the point where Coulson only has to demonstrate some of the moves a few times before Steve is able to imitate them. Coulson is so obviously impressed it makes Steve feel a tiny bit better about this mess his life has turned into. Whatever he thinks about Coulson's story ― the demonstration with a dagger had been _informative_ , and Steve still remembers watching the flesh on Coulson's palm knead together right before his eyes ― sword fighting is just another form of combat, and Steve takes to it naturally. For the weeks following coming out of the ice, Coulson gets Fury to let him show Steve around town. They practice daily in little gyms across town and Coulson explains that other, hidden world that Steve is now a part of.

He listens to Coulson explain about the safety of the Holy Ground, about the rules all Immortals live by.

"Fury doesn't know?" he says skeptically.

Coulson nods, tight lipped. "There are some things even the Director of SHIELD doesn't need to know. The Immortals keep out of the public eye. Imagine if average people found out we walked among them? Immune to all disease, unable to die unless we lose our head?" Coulson notices Steve's long stare, and chuckles. "I suppose being the only recipient of Erskine's original formula prepared you for the reality of what that would be like."

Steve looks away and tries not to think about all the blood samples Howard Stark had wanted to draw, trying to replicate the serum. Would those vials still be out there, and locked within them, the cure to every disease from cholera to common cold?

Coulson sighs, moving on to the next pressing topic. "You're picking things up at an amazing rate, Captain, but there's still so much for you to learn."

Steve feels the truth of it in his bones. "Will you teach me?"

For the first time since they'd began animatedly discussing the subject, Coulson's face closes up. "I'm not gonna be your teacher, Cap. Sorry. Find someone else, I'm not your guy."

"Why not?" Steve asks. "You're the only Immortal I know."

"Trust me, you'll meet others," Coulson says wearily. He looks regretful, but not enough to change his mind. Steve watches him turn and pace the room, in a preoccupied fashion. "And when you do, when you feel that Presence, I strongly advise caution. You're good; nobody could expect any less from Captain America. But there are evil men out there who hunt for power and the best lesson I can give you is to stay away from the other Immortals. After all," Coulson's smile seems to grow colder, "there can be only one."

The head-hunters. Steve looks back towards his shield, wrapped in a leather backpack laying by the wall. He wonders how it'll stand up in a sword fight, then shrugs. He's not afraid. He'd used it against Hydra, he could certainly use it against whatever Immortal tries to come after him. He'll make them regret it.

That's when Steve realizes that he has stopped treating Coulson's story as a bad joke. This truly is happening. He is going to live forever.

His world has been ripped out from under his feet. Everything he knows is gone. 

Coulson just told him he will have to experience this loss again and again _and again_ , as he watches everyone around him wither and die.

Bucky. Peggy.

For the first time since waking up Steve realizes that he would have lost everyone eventually, even if he hadn't gone into the ice.  


 

* * *

 

Everything else gets put on hold when aliens invade New York.

At this point Steve's taking things one day at a time: it's all magic and legends, and he wants none of it. He just wants to protect this world from those who would break it.

And in the midst of it all, in Germany when the confrontation with Loki seems to be going sideways, Steve feels the strange presence again, a faint echo of the sort he'd felt from Coulson. The buzzing in his head feels different, as if tentative in making itself known, and it's coming from the Iron Man suit next to Steve.

Tony Stark however, is anything _but_ tentative in his address. The man slices through each conversation like a sharp knife through butter, and every time Steve feels those dark eyes on him, his skin tightens. He tries to catch Stark's eyes, to see the acknowledgment of their immortal destiny reflected back at him, but all he gets back is vague amusement and an opaque stare, as his glances bounce off Stark's shiny armor.

When they get back to the helicarier, Coulson intercepts him. "I see you've met Mr. Stark."

"Is he...?" Steve asks quietly.

"He hasn't had his first death yet," Coulson says. "Not for the lack of trying," seems like a mumbled aside that Steve's sensitive ears weren't meant to pick up. Coulson says with a shrug, "It's not for us to decide. Stark gets to live his life as if he were mortal until such time that... well." Coulson smiles faintly at Steve.

The knowledge, all the unfairness of it, sinks into his bones. 

Tony Stark will be Immortal.

Steve thoughts turn miserable, angry. _Why did it have to be Stark? Why couldn't it have been Bucky?_

But Bucky is dead and Peggy is in an old people's home, and it's Stark, who looks at Steve like he is trying to pick him apart, who treats everyone and everything as if it's a joke, this rich playboy who is drunk and disorderly in every piece of footage Steve had seen of him, that gets to be special.

And when they fight, and Loki's magic stick makes the words fall easily off his tongue, Steve still burns with the memory of all the people more deserving.  


 

* * *

 

While the rest mourn Coulson, Steve's fingers twitch under the table as he feels the dim presence of the other immortal a few rooms away. He knows that Coulson is lying on a slab in the cold room, for all appearances dead. He knows he'll have to help the man sneak out of the helicarier later, because that is what Immortals do when they "die": they leave. Move on to live a different life, away from everyone they know, and never twain shall meet. They'd discussed this possibility before the fighting started, although it was always Coulson explaining to Steve what to do if he woke up in a morgue. 

As things stand, Coulson _is_ dead. It's an awful and inescapable reality.

Steve watches other people's faces, sees the crumpled look Stark is trying so hard to hide, and he thinks that even though he knows the truth, Coulson leaving is the saddest thing that's happened to Steve this century.  


 

* * *

 

Stark carries the nuke through the wormhole. 

Stark falls to the ground, and lies lifeless.

Steve's hands hover over the broken, slightly smoldering armor, unsure of where to touch, afraid he could make things worse. All through these moments that stretch into infinity, he thinks: of all of them, protected by his futuristic armor, Tony was supposed to live through this day.

And then the Hulk roars, and Tony's eyes fly open.

Almost immediately his mouth opens as well. "What the hell? What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me?"

He glares suspiciously at Steve, winces and his fingers twitch as if trying to lift up. The armor is dead, but Tony, Tony is _so alive_. The other Immortal's presence is clearer now, like a melody that belongs to _Tony_.

Steve looks down at him and can't help but smile. "We won."  


 

* * *

 

Tony can't argue against the very scientific proof delivered via a dagger. While Steve flexes his healing arm, Tony paces his destroyed penthouse, throwing Steve incredulous, suspicious looks. It's as if he holds Steve personally responsible.

"Immortal."

"Yes."

" _Im-mor-tal_."

"Yes, Tony."

Tony puts his hand against his eyes, peeks through his fingers at Steve. "Nope, not a hallucination. And you― Did you hit your head really hard at any point today? Because that would explain _so_ much."

" _Tony_." Shortly after shawarma, he'd taken the man aside to talk, explain that he'd truly _died_ out there today, but now he regrets the gesture. It took long enough to convince Tony he hadn't been merely unconscious. To say that Tony took the news of Immortality worse than Steve would be putting it mildly, and the rules of the game were a real sticking point.

"There can be only one?" Tony keeps talking as he paces, before swirling to Steve. "Why?"

Steve really wishes he'd asked Coulson more questions.  


 

* * *

 

"Now we're both Immortal, do you feel any sudden urges to behead me?" Tony says, and at Steve's droll look, amends, "More so than usual."

"Not really."

"Me neither." Tony nods. "So, what now?"

"We try to survive? Hope to avoid the head-hunters, I don't know."

Tony's whys and hows dried up eventually, but mostly because Steve doesn't have any answers for him. Maybe they could track down Coulson and ask him what it all means.

"Right." Tony drinks from his glass to punctuate that pronouncement. "This is such bullshit."

Steve thought it was bullshit too until Tony kept up with these questions and now he feels oddly compelled to defend the rules of the game. He feels it's his duty to instill in Tony how serious this is, the way Coulson had done for him. At some point they could have another Immortal coming for them _with a sword_ and Tony needs to be able to survive whoever it may be, however ancient and practiced in the art of killing they might be. 

Steve runs his eyes up and down Tony's form, his ratty t-shirt and low-hanging jeans, his white sneakers and the sexy, spiky bed-head. Tony is the very picture of insolent charm, and while upon closer acquaintance Steve is mellowing towards the projected image, he has to acknowledge it isn't exactly in Tony's nature to stay under the radar. Of the two of them, Tony is infinitely the more vulnerable one, outside of his suit of armor. From what Steve has seen out on the battlefield, Tony's tactics generally amount to 'shock and awe', with little strategy behind them. 

Steve feels the words come out of his mouth before he gives it another thought. "Hey, do you want to try sparing with me?" It could be fun, he thinks suddenly, having a friend to practice with, someone to share this with.

The baffled look Tony shoots him over the liquor glass makes Steve smile for only the second time that week.  


 

* * *

 

They don't end up sparing even though Tony looks curious and immortal healing means they're both physically capable, because Pepper calls Tony in tears. There's yelling in both directions. Steve tries to vanish into the still working elevator, but Tony puts up a finger commanding him to wait, while he takes the phone into a separate room for a few minutes.

So Steve is loitering in the broken down penthouse, studying the modern walls, the glossy writing table and a chair tucked up against a liquor bar. This century still feels slightly off to him, and he wonders how Immortals handle the dissociation brought on by being out of their own time. Maybe it's easier if you watch your world slip away bit by bit, instead of having it ripped away from you the way it had happened to Steve. He's almost grateful when Tony comes back to break him out of these bleak thoughts.

"I have no idea how I'm gonna break this to Pepper," is the first thing Tony says when he strides back into the room, tucking his phone into the back pocket of his black jeans.

Steve frowns. "Coulson told me mortals aren't supposed to know about us." He realizes what he said and glances up guiltily at Tony. 

"Coulson?" Tony pales.

Steve squares his shoulders. "He's one of us."

"And―and you just _forgot_ to mention that little bit of news?" Tony's eyes widen as he studies Steve's face. Then he visibly buries the hurt. "Where is he?"

"Gone." Steve shrugs, still struggling to keep up with Tony's mood changes. He'd thought Tony would rip into him for keeping Coulson's secret, but it's like they skated right past that. "He had a public death. He had to disappear."

"Fury doesn't know," Tony says, not a question.

"Nobody knows. Coulson said it was dangerous, for mortals to know about us."

"You don't seriously believe they don't already?" Tony starts to pace again, but this time it's not a reflective pacing of someone who just had their world turned upside down and is trying to cope. His movements are jerky, he is furious and trying badly to hide it. Steve remembers his long stare at the blood splatter on the wall, back on the helicarier, mourning Coulson's death and trying to play past it, walk it off. Before him, Tony's hand flies up to his chest and taps the blue light there, in a seemingly unconscious gesture. "You don't think anybody noticed the same faces showing up in different eras of history? Especially if there's a trail of beheaded bodies left in their wake? You don't think anybody kept track?"

Steve hopes not. The idea of a list existing with all of their names on it gives him the heebie-jeebies. "I am only telling you what Coulson told me. He gave me a few names," Steve pats his jacket until he finds the pocket, and pulls out a small piece of paper. He'd already memorized the couple of lines. "Immortals who might be able to take you on as a student. Teach you sword-fighting, that sort of thing." He tries to hand the paper to Tony.

Tony's eyes rove over the slip of paper, but he doesn't take it. Instead, as if to be contrary, he shoves his hands deep into the front pockets of his dark pants, and rolls back and forth on his feet. "What are you gonna do?" he asks curiously.

Withdrawing, Steve folds the paper back up and puts it back in his pocket. Not his problem. He has to stop treating Tony like his responsibility. "I don't know. Maybe travel a bit. See what's changed."

"Right." Tony looks at him warily. His hand flies up jerkily half-way to his chest, but he stops it before it reaches its target. Still, the movement is enough for Steve to glance down at the arc reactor embedded in Tony's chest. He'd read the basics of Tony's condition in SHIELD reports Fury had shown him, knows it used to keep Tony alive. He knows Tony is thinking of the same idea he is.

"You know, you can't be killed by shrapnel anymore. Not permanently."

"What of it?" If he thought Tony had been uncomfortable with him before, he'd clearly underestimated things. The temperature in the rooms drops several degrees.

Steve eyes the reactor. "I mean― you can get rid of it." 

Tony's eyes narrow. "The reactor serves more than one purpose. It powers Iron Man. You think I should get rid of him?"

It's in the slip of speech, in the way Tony talks about the armor as if it's a whole separate identity. Steve knows he's stumbled into murky waters and tries to extricate himself from the subject entirely. He lifts his hands hoping for peace. "Not my call." 

Tony's still looking at him distrustfully, and Steve glances to the side remembering how they got started down this line. It has been preying on his mind, the realization of what the rest of his life would look like: nothing like he imagined. Even if he hadn't gone into the ice, those dreams of building a family with Peggy could never have come true, because he was _incapable_ of it. "I don't know if it's a good idea to tell Ms. Potts about your immortality either, but there is something... You know Immortals are sterile. Staying in a relationship with her, if she's hoping for children―"

" _Whoa_ , big guy," Tony says and actually backs up a few steps, looks Steve as if taking measure of him. "Might wanna slow down there. In the space of two minutes you told me I should get rid of my arc reactor and my girlfriend, things I'm pretty attached to."

"I didn't mean it like that," Steve says quietly. Tony would never understand him. They want different things. It's fine.

"Yeah, I can feel you not-judging from all the way over here," Tony says with acid slipping into his tone.

Steve lets go a sigh. Every turn of conversation with Tony always becomes fraught, and Steve is tired. Not physically, but emotionally, mentally _drained_. Aliens and immortals aside, being here is exhausting. He didn't even realize he hoped the shared secret of Immortality would bring them closer together, before it became clear that it was only pulling them further apart. 

"I think I should go."

"Yeah, you might be making the right call there," Tony states blandly.

Steve glances around the penthouse, still in a state of disrepair, even though someone had obviously been around to sweep up the broken glass. "You've got a lot on your plate. I'll stick around until we send Loki to Asgard." He heads towards the elevator, and it opens the doors immediately as if sensing his presence, before he can try to look for an elevator button. At that point, Steve takes this in stride.

"Hey Cap," Tony calls out, right before the elevator doors close between them, and nods quickly, when their eyes meet. "Watch your head."  


 

* * *

 

It's months before he thinks about Tony again.

No, that's a lie. He swats unwelcome thoughts of Tony away on almost daily basis, but it's been a while since he allowed himself to fully think about the man. This time is different because he's back in New York and Steve feels a buzz of another immortal, like a metal grinder ringing in his head in a klaxon of warning. _Tony?_ is his first thought, as he tries to find the source.

He turns around, looking back down the Brooklyn alley he came from, and sees nobody there. The alley is silent, except for the sound of pigeons cooing on the wires above. Steve knows, down to his bones, there's another immortal around, and squeezes the handle of his leather briefcase in his hand. He doesn't walk about without his shield anymore. He only made that mistake once, in Nebraska, and found himself ducking and weaving away from sword strikes slicing the air, entirely too close to his neck. He barely managed to drop the other Immortal with a swift punch to the side of the head. While studying the man laying at his feet, he felt the returning Presence, which meant the other Immortal would soon regain consciousness. Steve had never run from a fight in his life, but with the prospect of beheading someone looming over him as the only means of ending this, he made his escape.

The world the Immortals exist in is harsh. It doesn't seem to matter that Steve isn't looking for a fight. It could be the first time they lay eyes on each other. All that matters is that he carries a Quickening, the total sum of all his power and knowledge. Back before he left, Coulson had told him that the older the Immortal, the stronger the Quickening, and that Steve needed to pick up a sword. That wasn't in the cards. His shield is good enough to defend himself with and he has no plans to challenge anyone to a duel.

Now that he is back in New York, he feels a faint hope that it's Tony's presence he feels in the alley. But why would Tony be here? They hadn't spoken since that day in New York, when they'd clasped each other's hand and shook on their common understanding, leaving everything else lie silent between them.

Steve looks back. The crisp October morning after the rain makes steam rise from the vents in the ground. And it's through this mild fog, he sees a shadow separate from one of the grey monochrome buildings and stride towards him. It isn't Tony.

A short Chinese man with a tight-lipped smile nods his head, running his other hand over an ornate scabbard at his thigh.

"Steve Rogers," the man says, shrugging out of his long coat and throwing it aside. "Captain America, it's a pleasure."

"That's my name," Steve says, fingers twitching on his brown leather briefcase. It's a bad sign when they know his identity. "We haven't been introduced."

The other man throws down his name like a gauntlet: Kiem Sun. The man's smile deepens, "It seems you have misplaced your sword." The other immortal draws his own katana, clearly not bothered about attacking an unarmed opponent.

"I don't want to fight you," Steve tries, planting his feet more firmly, readying for action and feeling muscles tightening in his belly. He isn't going to run from a fight, even though he doesn't want it. This time he has the means to defend himself.

"You have something I want," Kiem Sun states plainly, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "The serum that runs in your veins could be the key to unlocking a formula that I've been working on for a very long time."

Does it make it better or worse that he is being targeted specifically? Steve runs his fingers over the clasps of the briefcase, and pulls out his shield.

Kiem Sun quirks a sharp brow at the sight of it, but immediately slides into an aggressive stance.

"This should be fun."

"We'll see," Steve says grimly and puts the shield up to block.  


 

* * *

 

His opponent is strong for such a short man, but his speed is the deciding factor in his favour. He seems to weave under Steve's defenses within a blink of an eye, striking decisively against the side of Steve's arm, the tendon of his leg. Behind every strike is a guarded look with centuries of experience at single combat.

Steve knows he is outmatched within the first minute of the fight. As his opponent weaves out of the way of his shield after another sting from his sword, he can't see how to end the fight short of blocking his thrusts and outlasting his opponent. Eventually, Kiem Sun would tire, that's his hope. Steve's super soldier serum means he can go longer than even an Immortal, so he knows if he hangs in there, it would turn to his advantage. He just has to last until then.

And Steve wants to last, he wants to live through this. The thought nearly surprises him. In the past months of wandering, he found himself sinking into self-pity that had been difficult to break out of. It seemed like the world hadn't changed as much as he'd imagined, and that wasn't as welcome a revelation as he had wanted it to be. But now, with the adrenaline singing in his veins he thinks about the last time he fought on the streets of New York, in Manhattan. Then, the fate of the world hung in the balance. Now in the midst of this pointless combat, a ritual killing to serve a selfish goal, Steve would be damned if he let this be the end of him.

And in the midst of their battle, he feels a second presence, accompanied by a familiar rumble of repulsors. He knows who this is.

Kiem Sun is fast and Steve has no time to look out for Tony, but for a second he glimpses Iron Man hovering in the air above, repulsors acting to stabilize the suit in mid-air, the metal helmet with electronic blue slits tilted their way, observing. 

Steve knows Tony can't interfere in their duel, and his opponent seems spurred on, rushing Steve in the moment of distraction and pressing the advantage with slices of the sharp blade at his feet. Steve can't look at Tony, he can barely handle the onslaught directed his way, he can't spare his attention on anything but the man coming at him with vicious focus. 

Another slice against his lower leg and with a sharp cry of pain Steve goes down to one knee, just barely lifting the shield in time to protect his neck. Fingers grip his shield and try to rip it off his hand or at least shove it away so that the sword could reach behind the cover. With a last minute instinct and adrenaline thumping through his veins, Steve thrusts his body forward, ignoring his screaming in pain leg, and pushes the shield against the opponent with enough strength to make him stumble backwards. Kiem falls.

Steve is on top of him in a moment, straddling the other man. Time slows, his vision narrows to a pinpoint. To keep his shield free, he blocks another blow of the sword with his elbow, knocking the opponents arm astray even though the blade bites into his arm muscle. Then Steve brings the shield down on the man's throat with all of his strength.

Time speeds up again as he watches the head roll away. 

Breathing harshly from more than exertion, Steve lifts his eyes up to the sky. There is a storm gathering.

Tony is still hovering above the scene, his armor an impenetrable mask over his expression. He moves out of the way when the first lightning strike licks its way down Steve's right arm.

With the second arc of lightning, Steve slides off Kiem's corpse, sways on his knees and drops his bloodied shield, spreading his arms helplessly at his sides, trying to ride out the Quickening as it surges into his body. The alleyway lights up with sparks, and he cries out as lightning curves around his chest, leaps over his skin, an odor of copper and electricity permeating the air.

In the eye of the storm, Steve fights to keep breathing as lightning dances across his body, running up his spine like the best rush he had ever felt, going on and on, relentless. He wants to release a scream, his spine arched as all that power hammers into him, in merciless frenzy.

Blackness sweeps across his vision.

The world is pleasure and pain, indistinguishable.

When Steve comes to, he is leaning over on all fours, hands splayed on the asphalt, gasping for air.

Iron Man has landed beside him, and Steve barely registers the mechanical whirr of the armor as Tony's faceplate retracts from his face.

"You okay?" Tony says, hoarse. Steve feels rather than sees his armored hands hovering uncertainly, close to his body, as Tony considers touching him.

"I'll live," Steve gasps out. The Quickening has left his body tense and wound up like nothing he'd ever experienced before. It's as if he'd had sex but hadn't come, a desperate itch spreading under his skin, concentrating in the groin.

They both startle when a siren echo in the distance.

Suddenly, he feels Tony's armored hand lay across his back and fights not to flinch away. He can barely take the touch. Steve's throat burns, his chest burns, everything burns. His limbs feel weak and uncooperative but he manages to lift his head. The alleyway they are secluded in won't remain safe for much longer. He meet Tony's dark eyes.

"Yeah, we should get out of here," Tony says, and puts his other hand up against Steve's chest. "Grab that shield, would you?"

Once Steve pulls his arm through the strap, Tony yanks him to a standing position with the strength of his suit backing him up. Steve sways and feels Tony steady him, slipping a hand around Steve's waist. It burns like a brand and Steve makes a soft sound, somewhere between unease and want. 

The Iron Man's mask slides back down over Tony's face, hiding his frown. "Hold on," he says with electric modulation slightly altering his voice, and then they are in flight.  


 

* * *

 

"That was intense," Tony murmurs slowing down over the landing pad, and falling the remaining couple of inches, the shock of their landing ringing through Steve's over-sensitized body. "You probably want to shower. Let DUM-E take that," the shield is tugged out of Steve's hand. An odd-looking one armed robot whirrs as it rolls away with its trophy clasped in its claw. "Clean that up," Tony commands and gets a beep in response. Steve tracks the robot's path with his eyes until it vanishes from view. He feels somehow naked without the protection he'd relied on for so long. 

"Relax, take a breath," Tony is saying, his mask up to reveal his face again, his voice pitched low as to be soothing, "You're shaking."

"Adrenaline," Steve offers gruffly. He isn't sure if Tony being so close isn't adding to his general state of discomfort. The urge to grasp Tony around the waist, and...and... _do things_ to him, keeps rising with each passing moment.

Steve pulls away from Tony's grasp and tries to make it across the floor of the penthouse. Immediately, he can tell Tony is following on his heels. Steve hears him step out of the suit, its metal joins whirring and then the soft steps threading in his direction. "Use my shower," Tony weaves one hand through Steve's elbow, ignoring the blood on his clothes, pulling him forward, "you'll love it."

The bathroom is something else. Steve stayed in motel rooms smaller than this. He is sure most of his old apartment would have fit into this white marble room with space to spare. Tony has pushed him towards the sink and Steve gratefully leans over to wash his hands and face. Tony immediately slumps back against the cabinet next to him, their shoulders practically touching. Tony is a tactile guy, but all this closeness is a lot even for him.

Steve glances his way curiously, and is met with a heated stare that won't be cowed. As if sensing the question in the air, Tony's lip curve in a crooked grin. 

"We're all alone here," he says. "Pepper moved out months ago." Pain flickers over his expression, quickly buried, "We broke up. Like you thought we would. Ha." Steve glances away, catching his own eyes in the mirror. 

Silently, Tony pulls a towel off a nearby rack and hands it to Steve to dry his hands. 

"It's safe, here," he says. "This floor is high enough above ground that no Immortal could sense us here even if they stood right at the base. Plus, I'm tracking every Immortal in New York area; it's not quite Paris, but there's a bunch of us. There is this database of Immortals I― you know what, nevermind. Steve?"

Steve slowly dries his hands. In the quiet of the bathroom, he feels keenly that Tony's presence at his side isn't an accident. The other man's penetrating stare burns a path over Steve's chest, his shoulders, as it traces over his body in a query.

"You doing okay?" Tony asks again, sounding genuinely worried. When Steve shrugs before glancing at him, he asks, "What did it feel like? The Quickening." A barely perceptible thread of excited curiosity strains his voice.

Steve feels his face heat.

"Oh," Tony says, as if reading everything in his response. His voice falls to a lower register, almost a whisper, "Like an orgasm?"

Shivering at the words, Steve turns to the other man. The heated expression on Tony's face is as unmistakable as the intimacy of his continued close presence, and Steve thinks he has to be doing this on purpose, winding Steve up even more. To what end? Steve isn't sure how much more he could stand. 

He moves forward, almost daring Tony to step back, a part of him is immeasurably grateful when the man doesn't budge an inch. There is only a breath between them, and Tony's head is tilted up, the angle somehow provocative itself, and all Steve wants is to put his fingers into his dark hair and pull his head back. Bite the vulnerable column of his throat; kiss it. Steve feels his own eyes dilate, blinks to clear the sensuous image away, but not fast enough. Tony notices. He notices a lot of things. By the time their eyes meet again, the charge in the room goes up another notch. 

Too much. Steve surges forward, driving Tony back two steps until Tony's back hits the bathroom door. Between the fight and the Quickening, the intensity of his own feelings surprises him, but not the target. He can't pretend he hadn't thought about it. Steve catches Tony's hand snaking up his chest, and holds it in place. "What is this?"

"It's whatever you want it to be," Tony murmurs, pressing further into him. The contact of their groins quickly reveals that Steve isn't the only one on edge.

He tries to read Tony's eyes. Whispers, "I don't want it to be nothing."

"It's not nothing," Tony promises heatedly, and kisses him.

There is a sense of release in the slant of Tony's mouth against his, like a cork of a champagne bottle popping open to relieve the pressure inside. Not having to hold back anymore, Steve sags into Tony's body, leans into him, pushes him into the wood of the door and drives him up a few inches with the press of his own body. Tony's fingers scramble up his arms to tangle in his hair and he moans against Steve's mouth, melting into the passionate kiss that goes on forever.

Steve feels him shift, thrash a little against Steve's body, and forces himself to back up a hair. 

"Christ," Tony pants against his mouth. He clasps Steve to him again when Steve is ready to pull away, to give him space, and gasps, "No, don't go." 

For some time they only kiss in silence interrupted by wet sounds of their lips sliding against each other, and the short gasps of pleasure and want. "Let me take you to bed," Tony murmurs into the kiss. 

They move the action to the bedroom, still kissing, Tony smiling against his mouth as he pulls Steve after him, before turning at the last moment and pushing Steve to sit on the bed. Steve is reaching for him when Tony slithers out of his hands and slides down to his knees, hands going towards the fly of Steve's pants. His hands' movements are sure as they free Steve's erection. Tony looks pleased with what he found, glancing up with a quicksilver grin before lowering his mouth to take Steve in.

Steve jolts as if electrified, his hips jut forward involuntarily before he forces himself still. It is only the tip at first, but Tony lowers his mouth carefully, skillfully swallowing more and more of his cock on each motion down. A whine builds in Steve's throat and he chokes it down, he chokes down the murmurs of encouragement he wants to make as Tony's tongue runs over his length, before swallowing him again. 

Putting a hand against the side of Tony's head, he watches his dark head bob up and down at a perfect pace, and feels the overpowering intimacy of the image lodge somewhere in his chest. He never had someone perform this act on him before. That it is Tony...

Steve cries out and tries to tug Tony's head away, tries to let him know how close he is to shooting. Instead of moving off, Tony just sets his hands on Steve's hips, holding him still and making a wonderful, delightful movement with his throat. Steve is crying out in release before he fully registers it happening, the orgasm punching out of him with a deep burst of pleasure. Tony swallows, the walls of his throat tightening, and then seems to chuckle around his cock, as if the reaction he gets pleases him immensely. Steve feels as if he can't stop coming, breathless as hot long pulses go on, seemingly endlessly.

His cock slips out of Tony's mouth, still leaking against his lips. Some of the ache from the Quickening is easing. Tony is already scrambling up into his lap, sitting with his legs splayed on each side of Steve as Steve's arms come up to wrap around his waist. They kiss, the taste of cum on Tony's mouth a deliciously filthy mark of what just happened. One of Steve's hand finds Tony's groin, palming the bulge there through the jeans. Tony makes a needy sound and helps him undo the zipper. He lowers his face into the crook of Steve's shoulder, body curving when Steve's hand wraps around the length of his erection and begins to stroke. Encouraged by the sounds Tony is making as he melts against Steve, he tries to work Tony to completion, feeling his own body heat up again from the warmth of Tony pressed up against him so intimately.

"You're so wound up," Tony breathes against his ear, hot lips brushing his earlobe, little shudders running through his body like a plucked string, as Steve strokes him steadily. "How long before you can go again?"

In answer, Steve turns them, and pushes Tony on his back on the bed, starting to shuck off his own pants.

"Oh," Tony says, eyeing his groin. "Oh, _yeah_."

He makes Tony cry out with pleasure. Then he does it again and again.  


 

* * *

 

Later, Tony turns his head to watch him across the pillow in silence. He looks wrecked, skin still glistering with sweat from earlier exertion, and he smells like sex. Steve feels a thrum of satisfaction in his body from having done that. There's an affectionate look lighting up Tony's eyes. Forget eternity, Steve doesn't dare think about what the next moment could bring, until Tony's fingers run up his arm, feather light. 

"Stay awhile."

 

**Fin.**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kiem Sun is a character from _Highlander: The Series_ , an immortal alchemist appearing in the season one episode "The Road Not Taken". In that episode, Kiem tries to perfect a potion in order to obtain personal guards to fight against Immortal opponents in the Game, at the cost of mortal lives. Despite his crimes, Duncan spares his life on account of their old friendship, but informs him if they cross paths again, MacLeod would kill him.
> 
> In my head, Bucky is also an Immortal, although Steve is not aware of it until later. Immortals don't regrow body parts, or at least none have lived long enough to find out if it's possible. 
> 
> Yes, the database that Tony has hacked is that of the Watchers, and he's been quite the busy little bee.
> 
> Please tell me what you think about the story. I had a lot of fun integrating Highlander and Marvel canon as I wrote it!


End file.
